


Screw the table, I'm nailing you.

by imnotinclinedtomaturity



Series: tumblr prompts [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Sexual References, cursing, no actual smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 01:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17499356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnotinclinedtomaturity/pseuds/imnotinclinedtomaturity
Summary: Phil is out at the shops when their coffee table collapses beneath Dan’s legs. Aggravated, Dan tries to fix but it doesn’t go great. By the time Phil comes home, Dan is in a proper Mood. Based on the prompts“Welcome back. Now fucking help me, I’m gonna strangle you,andOooh kinky.





	Screw the table, I'm nailing you.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [embracedthevoid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/embracedthevoid/gifts).



> a/n: the whole point of the prompt game for me was to work on allowing myself to post more playful, quick things that i don’t necessarily pour tons and tons of time and effort into. so here is a fun little thing, it’s not beta-d by anyone other than me so sorry in advance for typos lol.

Dan had been scrolling through tumblr, enjoying his lazy Sunday afternoon, when their shoddy Ikea coffee table collapsed under his feet. Him and Phil had been resting both of their feet on that table for _years_ — and on one notable occasion, Phil had bent Dan over it and fucked him — and it had been _fine_. But this morning it couldn’t even handle the weight of just Dan’s feet; it was like it _knew_ that Phil was out at the shops and wasn’t due back for ages.

And of course, Dan’s New Year’s resolution was to work on his _procrastination_ habit. It seemed like a direct violation of that resolution to leave the table in shambles until Phil got home. Not without making _something_ of an attempt, at least.

So instead of scrolling through tumblr for another two hours, Dan found himself sitting on their lounge floor and awkwardly balancing the table top on his shoulder while he _tried_ to figure out how to screw the leg back in. It had been bloody years since him and Phil built this table, and of course they didn’t have the directions or little assembly tools it came with anymore. It didn’t need a normal screwdriver — no, no, that would be too easy. There were weird six-sided holes that, frankly, Dan had no fucking clue what to do about. 

He had their toolkit (the same toolkit Dan’s dad had given him when he moved into his first apartment because _every home should have one_ ) open out at his side, the tools spread out in disarray around him. At this point, he was just trying random tools in the hole, hoping something would make it budge. 

Fifteen random attempts and an hour later, though, absolutely _nothing_ was working and the lack of success was wearing on Dan’s nerves. It didn’t help that the weight of the table was slowly starting to make his back hurt, and the corner was painfully digging into his shoulder. The whole project was beginning to seem completely fucked; it was _really_ beginning to wear on his nerves. Lazy Sundays were not meant for futile DIY projects, and it didn’t help that he could hear his father’s voice echoing in the back of his head, telling him that he wouldn’t be failing at this if he were _more of a man_. 

Frustration was turning into downright infuriation, and Dan was on the verge of quitting when he heard the front door open. 

A wave of relief washed over him. Phil may not be loads better at the whole _handyman_ thing, but at least with Phil home, he’d wouldn’t have to simultaneously hold up the table and search for the proper tool at the same time.

“The outside world is terrible!” Phil whined from the hallway. Dan grunted loudly in return, hoping to alert Phil to his location. The loud grunt was the best he could manage with the weight of the table bearing down on him. 

Phil’s footsteps went straight by the lounge, carrying onward towards the kitchen. “The checkout lady at Tesco was _not_ very nice. She was practically _throwing_ our groceries into the bag and actually broke our eggs. And then she had the nerve to make me — _me!_ — go fetch new ones,” Phil ranted from the other room, probably unpacking the food he’d bought.

Dan grunted again, this time more urgently and demandingly. Normally, him and Phil were so in-tune with each other that they could effortlessly interpret each other’s wordless noises.

Apparently now was not one of those times.

“So I decided to treat myself to Starbucks on the way home as a reward, right?” Phil kept going, ignoring Dan’s noise. “And they were out of caramel syrup! How does _Starbucks_ run out of caramel syrup?” Phil whined indignantly, his voice growing higher in pitch as he continued his diatribe. Normally, Dan would drop what he was doing in order to sympathize about how horrid the outside world is, but he was too preoccupied with trying to salvage their fucking coffee table to engage. 

“ _Phhhh_ — oof!” Dan started to call, but was quickly interrupted when the tabletop slipped off his shoulder and nearly fell to the floor. Hands flying out with far more agility and speed than he realized he had, Dan caught the plank of wood and guided it back to his shoulder.

If Phil heard Dan’s struggle, he didn’t acknowledge it. “So I ended up getting the vanilla latte, which is just _boring_.” The noises coming from the kitchen stopped, and Phil’s footsteps grew louder. “And then, on the way home, it started to rain. I didn’t have an umbrella and now I feel like a drowned goose and — aren’t you going to welcome me home or something?” Phil cut himself off, griping about Dan’s lack of response.

Dropping the blatantly wrong tool in his hands, Dan looked up to the lounge door just as Phil rounded the corner. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, sending Phil an annoyed look. 

“Welcome back,” Dan practically growled. “Now fucking help me.”

Instead of rushing over to help Dan, though, Phil stayed hovering in the doorway. His head tipped to the side in confusion as he took in the scene in front of him. “What are you even doing?”

Dan rolled his eyes, wildly gesticulating to the mess around him. “I’ve been _trying_ to fix our disaster of a coffee table, obviously.”

“What happened to it?”

“I decided to take it apart for shits and gigs,” Dan snapped, shooting Phil an incredulous glare. 

Phil’s eyebrows shot up, clearly taken aback by Dan’s snarky response — something Dan couldn’t help but resent just a _tiny_ bit. By this point, Dan felt he had given Phil _plenty_ of warning about his mood.

“Why are you even fixing it? We’ve been talking about buying new lounge furniture when we move, anyway.” Phil had the nerve to sound genuinely perplexed while Dan was sitting on the floor, slowly but surely getting a massive bruise on his shoulder from their damn table.

“We aren’t fucking moving _yet_. I think we need a fucking table in the meantime,” Dan grumbled, turning his attention down to the tools around him and picking one up at random. “Now are you going to help me or not?”

Phil laughed — he fucking _laughed_ — and casually leaned against the doorframe, smirking at Dan. “Nah, I think I’ll pass. It’s much more entertaining to watch.” 

White hot annoyance rushed through Dan, and his fingers tightened around the tool in his hand. The caveman in him wanted to chuck the screwdriver in Phil’s general direction. “I’m gonna strangle you,” he threatened through clenched teeth, glaring up at Phil.

The threat clearly didn’t resonate with Phil because he _kept_ laughing. “Oooh, kinky!” he teased, waggling his eyebrows dramatically.

“You fucking twat,” Dan spat. The frustration and anger that had been building in Dan for the past hour seized hold of Dan, taking over. Abruptly, Dan shoved the table off his shoulder, not even giving a second thought to the loud _crash_ it made, and shot up.

Phil’s eyes grew wide at Dan’s sudden movement, and he straightened up from his relaxed stance against the doorframe. 

“You want kinky, I’ll show you fucking kinky,” Dan muttered predatorily under his breath. He stalked across the room in a few fast and heavy steps, coming to a halt directly in front of Phil.

“Oh, will you now?” Phil taunted lightly, a challenging glint in his eye. His tongue darted out to seductively drag along his lower lip. _Finally,_ Dan felt like him and Phil were on the same page today, and he intended to capitalize on that.

“Yes. Bedroom. Now.” Dan ordered. The table certainly wasn’t going to get fixed while he was this worked up, so he might as well take his pent up aggression by fucking the daylights out of Phil.

And if the way Phil was provocatively swinging his hips as he led Dan to their bedroom, Phil had _no_ problem with Dan’s plan.

**Author's Note:**

> like and reblog on tumblr 


End file.
